


Turn A Square

by havisham



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Honestly, Arthur? You’re about the worst person I’ve ever met.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn A Square

He woke up with a sticky taste in his mouth and burning conviction that today was the day he’d break things off with Arthur. It was this thought that sustained him through his slow shuffle from his bed to the bathroom. When the shower hit him square in the face with a freezing spray, he sighed and thought about how fucking devastated Arthur would be at the news. 

_The poor fucker. He won’t see it coming._

Breakfast was a poor meal, Merlin hadn’t gone shopping in the since Gaius had left for his sabbatical in France, leaving him such sardonic advice as -- take care of yourself (it was the way he said it) and don’t let that little blond bastard push you around. 

At least the cat had something to eat, although it still hissed at him when he came near it. 

Ungrateful little _shit._

He was throwing out the milk (clunky, gray) along with the cereal (milk got to it), when his mobile rang. It was Gwen, who demanded he have lunch with her. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he agreed, and winced when she chortled and said something to another person (Lance, it had to be.) 

“I’m breaking up with Arthur today,” he said, as he left the house. Gwen gasped; Lance gasped, too.

“You’re doing the right thing,” they both said. 

“So they tell me,” he said, feet slipping on the ice. 

Lance, who had wrestled the phone away from Gwen, said, “We’re all buying you lunch. I’m very proud of you, Merlin.” 

Yeah, yeah. 

\+ 

Professor Kilgharrah’s office hours were timed so that he would only see one student per week, if even that. Merlin slipped into the cavernous room, and immediately started to cough. The Professor roared – “Keep the door _shut_ , damn you!” 

But that was before the Professor recognized him, and softened up – “Come in, Emrys, come in, don’t stand there gawping at me.” 

Merlin scrabbled into a leather chair that dwarfed him, and peered through the smoke coming from the Professor’s pipe. “You wanted to see me, sir?” He tried not to seem particularly nervous. 

“Yes, see you, yes. Of course, you’ve been doing some thrilling things so far, three years at the university, and one can see the rate your work has continued to degrade. Honestly, Emrys, are you satisfied with being a C plus student? It may do well enough for the likes of Pendragon and such, but you’ve got to _fight_ for your place in the world.” 

Merlin paled (the Professor always knew too much about his personal life) and said that he _did_ try. 

The Professor snorted, (if he could breath fire, he would). “Whatever you say.” 

The interview was over, and Merlin got up. It was only then he allowed himself to look around and take in the sheer oddity of the Professor’s den. There was more gilding, more gold than was strictly needed for a professor’s office. On every surface, there were pictures of the Professor with various dignitaries, various celebrities. (People he’d mentored.) Even Gaius was there, looking vaguely uncomfortable, in a too-tight polyester suit and hair shaggy and gingery, at a gala in 1979. 

In a dark corner (Merlin had sharp eyes), there was a small oil painting of the university president. Someone had been using as a dartboard. Uther’s eyes and chin were pockmarked with hundreds of little holes. 

As he made his way out, the Professor said behind, “You’re doing the right thing, Emrys.” 

Merlin did not turn, and ask he what he meant. 

The Professor knew entirely too much about his private life. 

\+ 

Lunch with Gwen and Lance was actually fairly sickening, given how many times they kissed over their bowls of soup, and gazed deeply into each other’s eyes while passing the bread, and how they would play footsie when they footed the bill. 

Merlin decided to ignore all that and concentrate on eating. He ate with a steady concentration of a half-starved man. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, exactly, although his memory was not dependable in this regard. 

When his friends came up for air, they both trained on him twin looks of deep sympathy. “You’re really going to do it?” Gwen said, concerned. Merlin remembered, vaguely, that she had dated Arthur for the longest time, before Lance came along. 

She knew what it was like. 

“Yeah,” he sucked in a deep, soothing breath. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Gwen nodded. “Mummy’s brave little toaster.” 

Lance said, gruffly, that he was _very proud._

Merlin poked at his dessert unhappily. He hated it when they pretended to be his parents. 

Lance leaned back into the booth. “Of course, Gawain is just itching to have a go at you.” 

“Lance!” Gwen slapped him lightly on the arm. Then she said, “It’s true though.” 

“I don’t think I would be able to... Not right away.” 

“Of course not! No one expects you to,” Gwen smiled gently and took his hands into hers. Merlin smiled back. Her hands were very warm. 

She said, finally, “Pendragons are more trouble than they’re worth.” 

Merlin nodded. 

_Oh. She’s thinking of Morgana now._

\+ 

He attended his Friday lecture, dutifully took notes, and remembered nothing about it. The house was chilly when he came home, and the cat mewed at him reproachfully. He turned the heat up and fed the cat. Then he dragged the laptop into bed, and stayed there, trying to write a paper for an hour or more. He had written the same sentence three times when his mobile chirruped for attention. 

A one word text. _Come._

Arthur never could waste words, not on him. 

Merlin ignored it. He tried to write.

Another text. _Merlin._

Then another. _I need you._

Cursing, he shut off the computer and went looking for his jacket. 

\+ 

He waited outside gate for ages, convinced that he should go, anywhere, rather than come in. He wished he smoked, so he had an excuse to linger outside, although the air was biting and his nose was (probably) quite red by now. The guard who came to open the gate, a redheaded lout named Geraint, grinned when he saw him. “He expected you an hour ago.” 

Merlin’s breath made big puff of steam (he wished it were smoke). “I was busy.” 

Geraint shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.” 

\+ 

Arthur lived in the penthouse suite seven floors up, as snug as a prince in his castle. The south wall was all windows, looking over the snow-covered streets of Camelot, and to the solid stone bulk of the university below. 

Arthur himself was sprawled on the couch, watching _RuPaul’s Drag Race_. 

“There’s pizza on the counter, and beer in the fridge.”

+

And so Merlin found himself sitting on the couch, with Arthur’s feet on his lap (“I need _room_ ,” he said meaningfully) watching the rest of the show. As the credits rolled, Merlin turned to Arthur and said, “I want us to take a break.” 

Arthur cocked his head, as if to think about it. 

“No,” he said. 

“You can’t say no! I’m breaking up with you!” Merlin shoved Arthur’s feet off his lap, and Arthur shrugged to get up. 

“Actually, I can, _Merlin._ I’m not participating in this break-up.” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Why should I?” Arthur pressed his face into Merlin’s, and he wasn’t even angry, the arrogant bastard, he didn’t think Merlin could go through with it. His fingers lingered on Merlin’s jaw, his lips pressed into an amused line.

Merlin pushed back, saying in an urgent tone, “Well, first, you’re a total dick. We don’t actually go out at all, you just call me and we have sex on your stupid couch. I hate this fucking couch!” He smacked a leather throw pillow, for emphasis. “When you see me in public, you make sure go out of your way to humiliate me, because god, how horrible would it be if the president’s son was seen making nice with an ordinary person, especially a scholarship case, oh yeah. Well. Fuck that. I’m sick of it, _you entitled prick!_ " 

“All I’m getting from this that you think about my penis a lot.” 

There was an all too-familiar smirk on Arthur’s face. 

“I’m leaving,” said Merlin, not moving from his seat. 

“You really think I’m an entitled prick?” Arthur was coming way too close to him, he was touching too much of him. Merlin should shrink back, he should leave. Instead, he turned to Arthur, who was looking at him almost tenderly.  
 _  
The freak._

“Honestly, Arthur? You’re about the worst person I’ve ever met.” _Besides his dad._

Arthur was _kissing_ him and it was – 

Merlin pulled away, “Besides your dad.” 

Arthur pouted. “Do we have to talk about my father now? Because to tell you the truth, it’s _kind_ of a boner killer.”

“I am not,” Merlin turned, straddled Arthur, who fell heavily from the leather coach with a groan. Cushioned from the fall, Merlin ground down, watching as Arthur squirmed and started to pant. “Concerned about that.” 

Arthur’s voice was straggled when he said, “ _Mer--lin_.”

“We’re _broken up_.” 

Arthur licked his lips, nodded fervently. “Yeah. Yeah. We can break up some more in my room.” 

Merlin pushed into him, rocked his hips. “What’s wrong with here?” 

“I - uh - have condoms in there. And lube?” 

Merlin sighed. 

Yeah, well. _Safety first._

 

\+ 

The thing about Arthur was that he was selfish, childish, and prone to malicious fits of temper. 

The other thing about Arthur was that he was very, very beautiful. 

It wasn’t that his beauty made up for his behavior (it didn’t), but when Merlin pulled him down and sucked and made him ache and smart, when his tanned skin was hot against Merlin’s fingers, when he couldn’t speak anymore (couldn’t annoy him anymore), the Merlin could see Arthur as he was, beautiful, selfish, and beloved. 

 

And so when Merlin whispered in his ear, “I hate you.” 

And Arthur swallowed, blue eyes unfocused. “I hate you too.”


End file.
